It's Only Love
by Eleanor Damaschke
Summary: Prequel to Heir Presumptive, by Prairie24. Tygra, under self-exile from Thundera, finds an unexpected relief from his military routine. COMPLETE
1. Meeting

There was no mistaking the heavy tread of a strong, able-bodied male. Even less likely was the thought that one wouldn't be able to hear the anger in the scratch of his claws against the hard-packed dirt. Though it had been nearly two full years since his arrival, the broad-shouldered tiger prince never seemed to smile. His garrison was the fittest and best-trained in living memory for the denizens of Felinis Ford, but nothing his soldiers did or said could please their young commander. It was rumored that Prince Tygra had left Thundera under duress, and his garrison was merely a stepping stone in working his way back toward the throne. There was little doubt in the tiny village that the strong-willed commander was fit to rule. Even in harsh anger and hard drills, the cat and his soldiers had eliminated the threat of predators and enemies. Their fields were safe, their waters clean, and it was all thanks to him.

The dusty hot sun was burning down on them today, and Prince Tygra was searching among the adobe huts for a young soldier that had wandered from his post. No one was to leave their post unless ordered by a superior, and the boy's captain had been baffled when asked where he was. Now it was his job to return the boy to his post or give him a sound thrashing for attempting to desert. He'd nearly run into the petite cheetah before he saw her, arms full of large bundles of grain from the fields. She and two others seemed to be taking their harvest to the mill to be ground into flour, and as Tygra stopped in their path, their feminine chatter died away. He could only assume they were too awed by his presence to dare speaking to him.

"Have you ladies seen a soldier about?" He may as well get the information that he needed from them, if they had it. "He'd be about sixteen winters, a jaguar." There was a short pause as the females exchanged glances. Softly, they each murmured a negative, but as they tried to move on, Tygra stopped them again.

"If you've seen anything at all," he pressed, unaware of the dark scowl that lined his handsome muzzle, "I'd appreciate hearing it now." Again, they traded looks.

"No, Commander."

"I'm sorry, Commander, we haven't seen anything."

The two taller females scurried off, but the smallest one- the cheetah that had been walking in front of them, stayed where she was. Large, dark brown eyes stayed fixed on his face for a long, silent minute before she sighed faintly.

"He helped us harvest the last of the wheat in the south field," she confessed, looking away. "Last I saw, he was heading for the jungle after a big... thing..." The female gestured vaguely south, toward the protruding finger of the massive jungle that isolated them from the nearest village. "He wouldn't say what it was." Tygra was surprised by her firm tone and lilting, musical voice. It was as though she were singing the words, rather than saying them. Taking minute to look her over, he found that, unlike many of the spotted females he'd encountered recently, she didn't remind him of a particular back-stabbing cleric he'd left behind. She was small, lithe and wiry from the work of the field and of surviving in this desolate place.

At last, he spoke. "Thank you, miss...?" It was easier to let her feel compelled to introduce herself than to ask for her name. Though his days as a lady's man in the Thunderian court were behind him, that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate rare beauty when it stood in front of him. At least, that was what he told himself.

"Soemmer, of Felinis Ford." She offered him a brief curtsy, either unwilling or unable to show proper respect to Thunderian royalty because of the heavy bundles in her arms.

"Tygra, of Thundera." He bowed slightly, then stepped aside to move around her and let her pass. He didn't look back, though if he had, he might have smiled. Soemmer stared after him, looking rather as though he'd announced he was the incarnation of the Earth Spirit itself. If he'd cared to listen and watch, he may have seen her mouth the word 'prince' and laugh nervously before walking toward the mill, moving as though in a dream. When the world turns upside-down, just go with it. Or at least, that's what she tried to tell herself.


	2. Invitation

It was ten days later when they saw each other again, and this time, Soemmer colored beautifully under her pale fur, quickly averting her eyes. The prince! Why in the world had she spoken so boldly to any male, let alone _him_? But it was too late. He'd seen her and was approaching quickly now. It was silly to even think such things, but she thought he seemed less fierce than he had last time they'd met.

"Soemmer." Her name rolled off his tongue and her heart skipped a beat. With a shiver, Soemmer lifted her eyes timidly to his shoulder, but dared not look into his face for fear of losing her composure.

"My prince." The young cheetah fancied that she'd managed to keep her tone fairly neutral, but something in the way he shifted his posture made her think again. He was tall, strong, and incredibly handsome. Not to say there weren't other handsome cats in the village- there were plenty of them, and many were very nice. But there was definitely something about Tygra that made her heart chase itself in circles.

"I wanted to thank you for your help the other day." When he spoke, his voice seemed to wash over her like waves of warm water, and she shivered, her gaze dropping to the ground. Even his feet were handsome.

"It was an honor, my prince," she murmured, scrambling for something intelligent to say and coming up empty-handed. It felt rather like the space between her ears had been suddenly and violently emptied of anything useful.

"Would you care to share a meal with me this evening? That is, if your family doesn't object." So far, the conversation seemed practically normal. But there was an underlying sense of... what could she call it? Searching? Probing? Like the prince was trying to get information from her without directly asking for it. The information brought up by that offer of dinner made her heart abruptly abandon its manic circles to drop into the pit of her stomach. Her family. No male had ever returned after learning of the condition of her family. Not that there had been many that showed interest over the past three years.

"I don't think my family will be an issue, my prince," Soemmer answered evasively. It was then that a large, warm hand caught her chin and directed her gaze up to his face. The cheetah felt her knees go weak and she tried not to lose herself in those yellow-gold eyes. Feral eyes. Eyes that had seen too much.

"Tell me the truth, Soemmer," he urged, and she was surprised by the gentleness in his voice. She shivered again and tried to look away, but couldn't.

"I am alone, my prince. My mother died long ago in childbed, and my father perished in a raid three years ago."

"And you have no siblings?"

"None, my prince." Soemmer could feel the hot tears filling her eyes and hated herself for the weakness she showed this strong, capable male. It wasn't often that she thought of how alone she really was. She had a guest now and then when Serva needed a place to stay, or when Leopa's brother kicked her out for the night, but on the whole her hut was usually only a home for one. It felt empty some nights, but she distracted herself well enough. Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and Soemmer blinked, the tears overflowing as she realized that Tygra no longer held her gaze. He looked... sad. Was he sad for her? Or just sorry he'd ever offered?

"In that case, I insist you join me for dinner. And please, call me Tygra." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and it was all she could do to keep herself standing in front of him instead of clinging to him or kneeling to kiss his feet out of gratitude. A ridiculous impulse at best, but a powerful one.

"Thank you, my pr-" she hesitated for a moment, a smile coming unbidden to her tear-dampened face, "Tygra. Thank you."

"Save your thanks." He dismissed her with a chuckle, releasing her shoulder and moving away. "You haven't seen the food yet." And then he was gone, swallowed up by the busy crowd. Soemmer stood where she was, her heart pounding, unable to clear her mind of the feeling his warm hands inspired in her.


	3. Dinner and Beyond

The night watched him with a round, silver eye as he prepared his hut for his guest. The moon, pregnant with the new month, peered through Tygra's window as he moved back and forth, setting the rough table with a meal for two. Here in Felinis Ford, where a single jungle tree took all day and three strong cats to fell, chairs were an unnecessary luxury. As it was, he had thick, sweet-scented cushions to recline on while he ate. Tygra found that he actually liked the low tables and cushions here. It made him feel less like royalty and more like a normal cat. And right now, he wanted anything but royal treatment. Every 'your highness' and 'my prince' reminded him of the crown he would never wear, of the brother that never should have been born. Of the cleric that used him as a tool to get closer to the seat of power.

The male caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass and realized with a start that he was snarling. His handsome face was creased into lines of anger and betrayal, his gold eyes filled with injured rage that hadn't faded. Panthro had tried to tell him that 'time would heal all wounds,' but when the betrayal ran as deep as _hers_ did, how was time supposed to make any difference at all? It took real effort to smooth his expression into something more casual, but he couldn't erase the pain entirely. Would it always be this way? When the soft, timid knock finally announced her presence, Tygra wondered what in the world he was thinking. Why had he invited her here? Was he just _looking_ for ways to get hurt? Why would she be any different from Cheetara?

Hinges squeaked dryly in the warm night air and as the door opened, he suddenly found that his lungs didn't want to work properly. Soemmer had been dressed simply when he saw her during the day, still hot and dusty from the day's work. He recalled the unkempt tangles in her blonde hair and the smudge of sweat-damp dirt under one of those huge brown eyes. Apparently, dinner with a prince was a special occasion for her. Clad in a simple dress of deep, sunset orange, the female's spotted shoulders were bare except for the stray locks of golden-blonde hair that fell in pretty waves around her face. Her fur was strikingly clean, and the faint scent of floral soap made Tygra wonder if she would have done this for any male that paid attention to her. The poor girl had to have been lonely. Looking at her now, he was amazed that she was still so alone.

Soemmer shifted slightly, glancing anxiously into his face, searching for something. He realized that he'd kept her waiting outside his door while he stared at her and, abruptly remembering to breathe, Tygra turned with a slight, welcoming gesture, indicating that she should come in. As the girl entered, he saw her twist a lock of hair nervously about her finger. He needed to say something before she decided that coming had been a mistake.

"You look... beautiful." None of his usual flowery compliments seemed to fit. They were all too... fake. Nothing he could say could capture how she seemed like the scent of cool rain in the middle of the desert summer. Soemmer. Rain. It was an ironic comparison, but it fit. The cheetah's pale cheeks were tinged with pink as she turned her face away from him, apparently embarrassed by his compliment.

"Thank you... Tygra." There it was again. That musical tone that made his name sound like poetry instead of an insult. He smiled in spite of himself and touched her elbow, indicating she should take a seat at the table. Elbow was safer than shoulder. Her shoulders, so slender and delicate, were downright tempting. The way she held herself told him that she had no idea how beautiful she really was. That made her an even rarer specimen, true beauty both inside and out. Tygra reined in his vivid imagination and told himself sternly that he needed to learn more about this petite female before he had any right to think such things.

Their dinner was interspersed with quiet conversation, their topics ranging from the village chief to childhood hiding places. The more they talked, the more Tygra realized how much he'd missed having someone to confide in. Soemmer was quick to smile and eager to make him laugh with tales of her own adventures. He learned quickly that stories about the misfortunes of his childhood friends only made her sad, and she discovered that any mention of his home or his brother was a shortcut to icy silence. He could tell she was baffled by his attitude toward his brother and king, and he was grateful when she didn't press the topic.

That dinner was followed by a second, and then a third. Tygra tried to tell himself that he merely enjoyed her company, but the excuse sounded flimsy even to his own ears. The better he knew her, the more he found in her to admire. Soemmer was as hungry for companionship as he was, and it wasn't long before hardly a day passed without the two of them seeing one another. The guise of happenstance wore thin quickly. It didn't take much for Soemmer to admit that she had been purposefully lingering around the garrison in the hopes of seeing him again. The soldiers were amazed at the change that took place in their commander. The once dour and angry tiger had become a passionate, energetic leader, revealing a vast store of patient wisdom and silent understanding. Several cats who'd taken this change as a sign of weakness had attempted to defect, lounging idly about rather than attending to their drills. When they found themselves bound, staked, and doused, they learned that no amount of compassion would free them from military discipline.

And Tygra wasn't the only one that had changed. Soemmer, usually cheerful and quiet, had become a veritable fountain of music. She sang while she walked, hummed while she worked, whistled while she waited in line. There wasn't a moment of her day that wasn't filled with smiles and music, and some of her fellows began to suspect long before the cheetah herself ever considered the possibility; she was in love. It was midsummer when the chief gathered his village around the gnarled old tree that shaded the well, announcing in a solemn voice that they were to stand witness to the union of Tygra and Soemmer in the bonds of marriage.


	4. Summer Night

Soemmer's world seemed to swim in and out of focus around her, spinning in lazy circles about her feet until she had to lean against Tygra's strong chest to keep herself upright. She had never imagined that it could all happen so fast. The tears that dripped through the wet fur on her cheeks refused to stop, even now that the ceremony was over. Her father hadn't lived to give her away, but her mate had found her anyway. And now- now she was married! The concept was both joyful and terrifying for the cheetah, and as Tygra led her back toward his hut, she clung to him. Surely he could feel her tremble, surely he could smell her fear. But she was happy too. She was overjoyed that he had wanted her enough to marry her, loved her enough to dedicate the rest of his life to her. Unless...

Rumors about his previous "exploits" in the Thunderian court had not bypassed her completely. She'd tried not to pay any attention to them, but Soemmer found herself absorbing them anyway. What if Tygra was looking for something in her that simply wasn't there? What if he expected her to act like a lady, or even return to Thundera with him? What if their courtship and wedding had been just for his benefit, so he could have a legitimate mate when he returned for the throne? More 'what ifs' than she could possibly account for swirled around in her mind, and Soemmer was startled to find herself being laid gently on the thick pad that served as Tygra's bed. It was much nicer than her own, and she was glad that he'd decided to keep his place, rather than hers.

"Are you alright?" There was soft concern in his golden eyes as he leaned over her. His hair, the same shade of red-orange as the sunrise before a stormy autumn day, was sticking out in odd directions. He must have run his hands through it at some point. He did that sometimes when he was distracted. Soemmer lifted a shaking hand to smooth one of the stray wisps back into place, but Tygra caught her slight fingers long before it reached his face.

"I'm... alright." She managed to say the words, though what her tone told him and what she'd said, were two horses of entirely different colors. In a moment he was beside her, propped up on his elbow as he cradled her body against his chest, stroking her hair.

"Tell me what's wrong, Soemmer." Tygra's voice was soft, impossibly gentle in the dim bedroom of his silent, cool hut. "What's bothering you?" He was too kind to her. All at once, the cheetah's fears spilled from her mouth, while the tears streamed from her large, dark eyes.

"Why? Why me, Tygra? There are so many others that you could have chosen- any one of them would have said yes, and served you better. I'm just... I'm just a silly girl with no parents and you could have someone so much better!" There was a part of her mind whispering (in a voice that sounded oddly like her father's) that her fears were not only unfounded, they were also silly. That this was no reason to cry, and that today was supposed to be a happy day. But Soemmer's emotions had never been very good at listening to reason, and she couldn't stop her tears, no matter how much she wanted to. For a moment, Tygra's hands went still. In the quiet room, nothing could be heard but Soemmer's ragged breathing, and she began to fear that he really had no answer for her. A million more 'what ifs' popped into existence in her mind and Soemmer bit her lip, desperately swallowing a broken-hearted sob.

"Why you?" What had felt like an eternity hadn't really lasted any longer than it had taken for Tygra to take a deep breath. "Because I love you, Soemmer. I wouldn't have any other." They were married, after all. This should have been obvious. Soemmer's crying changed abruptly to semi-hysterical laughter, and she clung to him, burying her face in his chest as she tried to calm herself down. She could never tell afterward if he held her out of patience or out of love. Probably a combination. Somehow, he weathered her tears and when she was reduced to quiet hiccups, he soothed the rest of her fears with a kiss.

It was a kiss so entirely unlike anything she had experienced before that the cheetah was rendered all but immobile by its power. If his conversation had been "searching" and "probing" then it needed to take lessons from his kisses. If Soemmer had been standing, then she wouldn't have remained that way for very long. Her knees went all wobbly, even laying down, and the warm weight of his body seemed to be the only thing holding her together. When he released her from his kiss, the cheetah's mind was spinning in a hundred different directions.

". . . whoa." If she'd been aware of desire and hunger before this (which she thought she had) it was like comparing a glass of ice water to a mountain lake. The sheer force of the need that overtook her made her shake, and Soemmer blinked fearfully up at him, unaware that she was putting holes in his nice tunic while clutching at him for support. What kind of support, she couldn't tell, but it was essential.

"I love you," he repeated softly, his warm breath tickling her ear. "And nothing anyone says or does will change that." And suddenly his teeth were scraping gently over the furry rim of her ear, down the side of her face to the hollow of her neck. His fangs brushed her skin through her thick ruff, too gentle to break the skin, too strong to be ignored. Soemmer let out a soft noise that she herself couldn't identify, and tried to push him away. There were new feelings clawing at the pit of her stomach; heat, need, desire, hunger. In more ways than one, the whole idea of what was supposed to happen tonight terrified her. But Tygra wasn't going to let her give up just yet. With quiet encouragements, laced with low growls, he coaxed her out of her dress. With gentle hands and claws that never even threatened her tender skin, he brought her to such shuddering ecstasy as the female had never even imagined. She was even more surprised when he actually mated with her. The scent of blood and sweat mingled with Tygra's heavy musk, and Soemmer whimpered softly under his warm bulk, trusting her body to the tiger who had already taken her heart.


	5. Upside-Down

Soemmer waved, standing nearly on her toes to catch a last glimpse of orange, striped fur as Tygra and the other cats on his team vanished into the undergrowth of the jungle. _It's only a hunting trip,_ she reminded herself forcefully. _He'll be back before you know it. It's routine. You've never cared before. Well, not enough to get this upset._ The petite cheetah pressed a hand to her stomach and tried not to grimace. She'd heard the expression 'worried sick,' but didn't like the feeling of unsettled churning in her belly. She was worried about Tygra. What else would be the matter with her? But before she had time to say 'Thunderian royalty,' he'd be back in their hut and the world would be at rights again.

Glancing around, she found herself alone. With a sigh, she ran a hand through her blonde mane and tried to calm herself. The long grasses around the village were decked out in yellow and gold for autumn. It would be harvest time soon, and the whole population of Felinis Ford would turn out to the fields to bring in the last of the summer grains, as well as the berries and tree-fruits that grew in profusion around these parts. Game was plentiful this year, thanks to the clarity of the water hole Tygra and his men had dug out two years ago. It had been his idea to set up a sheltered water source for the game animals. It would seem safer to them than coming to the river, where the cats of Felinis Ford bathed and drank. Just thinking about her husband made Soemmer smile. He was so strong and brave and smart. Why he'd ever chosen her was beyond reckoning, but she was glad that he had. She couldn't imagine being happier.

Her stomach growled uncomfortably, and the cheetah winced as nausea pinched at her insides. Well, she could imagine feeling less sick, but that had little to do with Tygra. With a sigh, she turned away from the early-morning silhouette of the massive jungle trees and made her way back through the village toward the hut she and her husband shared. It was a stretch of the legs to get all the way back to the garrison, and she really ought to have been doing some of the washing or looking in on the mill to make sure things were running smoothly, but at the moment, all she wanted to do was sleep. Soemmer felt a tad guilty over the desire to return to her own bed, but with her husband away from home, who else was there to care for but herself? And besides, the cheetah smiled to herself at the thought, if Tygra were here, he would definitely stress her health over any other task she might have in mind. Imagining her husband standing over her and scolding her for doing chores when she wasn't feeling well was enough to make Soemmer laugh.

When she woke later the same morning, it was to a strange and unpleasant sensation somewhere below her stomach, lower in her navel where it felt like someone was twisting her intestines about one another and tying them in knots. She cured it with some difficulty, finding a blend of herbs that didn't make her head spin and boiling it into a tea. A bit of bland food helped, too, so by lunch time she felt very much like herself again. Attacking her chores with a will, she swept and scrubbed and cleaned, did the laundry, ground the last of their summer grains, and scoured the pans and jars for this year's preserves. The berries promised to be extra good, and the fish were already swarming up the river to spawn. It would be a year of plenty. She had several large jars of summer squash and medicinal herbs stored away. Kiella's husband stopped by to ask for permission to borrow the larger of their two pots. The cat's wife, it seemed, was pregnant with her third and would be needing a little help with the canning this year. Soemmer gladly handed the pot over and wished him luck.

"It's not easy," he confessed with a slightly shamed look. "I thought she'd be done with it by now, but now we've another on the way- I just hope she doesn't take it into her head that I need to go hunting every other night again." Looking chagrined at his own words, the male shook his head and tried to back out without making a fool of himself.

"It's understandable," Soemmer told him warmly. "But you take such good care of her. There wasn't a woman in Felinis Ford that wasn't jealous of Kiella when you proposed." Her eyes twinkled at him and her smile was too warm to be denied. He smiled back at her, a look of sheepish pride taking over his face.

"Thank you, Lady Soemmer. You're too kind."

For a moment, the cheetah simply looked startled. "Lady? Since when do I qualify for that title?"

This time, the male laughed. Her easy, friendly manner hadn't changed from when he knew her as a kit, and he was glad of it. He'd been afraid that she would let her husband's position go to her head. "Well, you _did_ marry a prince, didn't you?" The thought caught her off-guard and Soemmer stared at him for a long minute. With a shake of his head and another laugh, he wished her a good day and hefted the pot to his shoulder, turning to leave. She didn't stop him. The reminder that Tygra was a prince of Thundera was one that was unwelcome, but not necessarily unpleasant. She'd married a prince. Did that make her a princess? She hoped not. That sounded a bit too much like heavy responsibility for her liking.

Soemmer went about her work, but now her mind was full of something so distant from the everyday tasks of Felinis Ford that it was a wonder she didn't completely lose track of the day. The responsibility of ruling as queen (or even simply princess) alongside her beloved tiger was close to crushing, despite the fact that she still stood in her own simple hut, far from Thundera.

_I'm not ready to be responsible for anyone else,_ Soemmer thought, trying to rein in the panic that built in her chest. _I can barely take care of myself and my husband- how in the world am I supposed to care for any more than that? Even one more life in my hands would be too much, let alone an entire nation!_ And for the first time, the cheetah prayed that Tygra would stay here in Felinis Ford. Going back to Thundera, while it sounded like an excellent idea for a prince, was no mean feat for a little female like her. What would she do there anyway? She doubted they needed their laundry washed or their summer squash canned. No. There was no place for her there. And she wasn't anywhere near ready to take even one more life into account in her daily routine. Not even one.

Having settled this in her mind, Soemmer continued her work with only slightly forced cheerfulness. The sun rose and set and rose and set again. Days passed. The young female was counting the hours until Tygra would return from his hunting trip with the other men of his garrison. Time seemed to crawl for her in Felinis Ford, where she had all day to do her work and always seemed to run out of things to do far too quickly. Her normal routine wasn't enough to fill her day. On top of that, she had a persistent and growing feeling of dread. The flu-like bug she'd caught only a few days before Tygra left seemed to stick around far more tenaciously than she'd hoped. People started to comment on her increasingly rare morning appearances in the market, where she usually spent her time trading and keeping up on the local news. Being the wife of the garrison leader (not to mention a prince!) had made her into something of a leader among the women of the village. They came to her for advice and news, and she was glad to give it, no matter who asked.

As dawn broke over the eastern horizon, Soemmer lay on her pallet and gritted her teeth against a moan. On most mornings, recently, nausea kept her a-bed until midmorning. Today it was nearly painful, gripping her belly in iron claws that twisted into her insides without remorse. With every beat of her heart she felt like someone was squeezing her insides, attempting to force them out through her mouth. She could taste bile at the back of her throat and it was all she could do to fight back the urge to gag. It didn't take long for her to lose that particular battle, and the poor cheetah found herself kneeling over the waste-paper bin, her body wracked with desperate, painful heaving as her empty stomach tried to expel imaginary contents.

The panic that had overtaken her several days before returned with a new flavor as Soemmer lifted her head, wiping her mouth with the back of a shaky hand. What if, instead of taking on more responsibility, she was about to leave it all to her husband? What if she was dying? Fear stabbed her through the middle and she staggered to her feet, taking the waste bin with her as she stumbled toward the water barrel. What would Tygra do? Would he be angry with her? What about the women of Felinis Ford? The midwife had been interested in having her help delivering Kiella's newest little one in a few weeks' time- would she be able to find someone else to fill the position? Fear and anxiety made even the cool water taste bitter. Soemmer didn't know what to do. One of a soldiers paused in his progress toward the town proper and looked at her with a worried expression on his blunt face.

"Are you alright, Soemmer?"

Standing in front of the hut and leaning on the water barrel as though her legs might give out (which they might have without the extra support) Soemmer couldn't very well lie to him. "I'll be okay in a bit. Don't worry." She tried to smile at him, but the soldier didn't seem very convinced.

"You look a bit unsteady. Is there anything I can do for you?" He took a cautious step toward her, peering into her face. He was one of the younger men in the garrison, a youthful jaguar with an especially long tail. Soemmer struggled to remember his name.

"No, I think I'll be fine." Waving him off with false cheer and hoping he didn't notice the way her arm shook, the cheetah turned back into her hut and shut the door. It wasn't more than an hour later when the local medicine-woman, who was also the midwife, rain-witch and medium for Felinis Ford, knocked softly on the door.

"Lady Soemmer? May I come in?" Her voice was soft and warm, but quavered slightly with with weight of years. Soemmer reluctantly rose and opened the door, having no good reason to refuse her entry.

"Pardra What are you doing here? Is there something wrong?" Soemmer bit her lip, looking over the old leopard. She carried her battered old bag, but no extra supplies.

"I hope not." Pardra fixed her with one keen amber eye. "Young Gazer told me that you weren't feeling well." Gazer. That was his name. Silly of her to forget it. She was shaking her head before she could think of a proper excuse, and the cheetah let the truth overrule any desire she had to appear strong.

"It's nothing, just a bug. A flu, I think. Nothing that we need to worry about. I'm sure I'll be fine before the men get back from hunting." But that outstanding hope was like a dying candle now. The fear from earlier clawed at her chest and the young female tried to keep herself under control. Against her better judgment, her heart began to beat faster.

"A flu, eh?" Pardra's eyes missed nothing. "And how long have you been feeling... under the weather?" Her tone was shrewd as she pushed her patient back onto the pallet she'd been sitting on a moment before and felt for the pulse she could hear racing in Soemmer's throat.

"Not too long..." the cheetah hedged unhappily.

"How long?"

"About three weeks."

"Mm-hm. And your symptoms?"

At last, Soemmer gave in. She listed the symptoms to the best of her ability, including the weakness, tiredness, and irregular nausea.

"And you usually feel sick in the morning, do you?"

The cheetah nodded. "But I feel fine by lunch time. I just eat a little-"

"Something bland?"

"Yes." Soemmer was unsettled. "How did you know?"

"And a bit of coffee?"

"Tea. The smell of coffee makes me feel worse."

"Mm-hm. And have you been worrying very much about this?"

Relief flooded through Soemmer and she relaxed. Stress sickness! Why hadn't she thought of it? It made so much sense. From the day Tygra'd left, she'd been anxious and upset. That must be it.

"Yes, I have. It's hard not to."

"I see. I believe I know your problem." Pardra replaced her seeing glass and snapped her bag shut. Soemmer dared to smile.

"I'm glad we have it figured out."

"You're pregnant." Pardra looked pleased as punch, completely unaware that she'd just turned Soemmer's world upside-down.


	6. Hysterics

Soemmer stared at the midwife, silent. The inside of her head raged with chaos that hadn't been there a moment before, but the cheetah remained still. She tried to stymie the panic that flooded into her chest, filling her lungs and throat, squeezing her heart in huge blunt claws. Pardra seemed to realize that all was not well. Her smile faded a little as the old cat took in her patient's expression.

"Soemmer? Lady-kit, what's wrong?" Even the endearment didn't draw her own. Soemmer stared at spotted face, wrestling her roaring inner turmoil into words. Well, one word, at least.

"Pr... preg...nant?" The two syllables were too much. Panic whirled, giving way to startling anger. Why? Why did everything have to fall apart _now_? She wasn't ready for this! This would change her life, change everything. How was she supposed to cope with this?

"My lady," Pardra's quavering voice was worried, but Soemmer paid no attention to her. "Soemmer. Snap out of it, girl." There was no way she'd be able to take care of a cub. No way. She couldn't do that to Tygra. Pardra's hands weren't at frail as they looked. Her fingers formed a gentle cup, lifted, and smacked the cheetah smartly across the cheek. Soemmer's head snapped to the side, away from the blow, tears of pain pricking in her dark eyes. And as suddenly as it had come, the anger melted away.

"Pardra," she choked, twisting to stare wildly at the wise old cat. "There has to be some mistake. I can't be pregnant. I can't." Tygra! What would he think? What would he do? Would he be disappointed? Angry? Would he even want a cub? What if he _did_ want a cub and she was messing it all up by not taking care of herself? Panic rose again, well-mixed with a heavy dose of fear.

"There's no mistake," the older female assured her, frowning slightly. "What's the matter with you, child? I thought you wanted this. With how you act with that husband of yours, I thought you'd be happy." Husband. Another thought shot through her and trailed more reasons, more fear. Tygra's mother had died in childbed. So had her own. Suddenly the fear that squeezed at her heart was for herself, for her cub. Soemmer's hands dropped to her belly and she dug her claws into her tunic, tears leaking into her fur.

"But I _can't_," she insisted hysterically. "I can't." Pardra raised her hand, threatening to smack her again. In all her days, she'd never seen a female react to this particular piece of news so badly.

"You can," she said firmly, "and you will. Whether you like it or not, this cub is yours and it's alive. Now spare me your hysterics and tell me what you're so scared of."

It took a long time for her to organize her thoughts, and even longer to put them into coherent sentences. When at last the cheetah had fallen silent again, the old midwife let out a faint sigh and shook her head. Soemmer's fears, though blown out of proportion, weren't unfounded. Pardra wished there was some way she could truthfully say that all this hysteria was over nothing at all and that she had nothing to fear at all. Unfortunately... Pardra sighed again, more deeply.

"Whenever a cub is conceived, wherever a cub is born, there is always the chance that something may go wrong. This is a risk taken by all parents." The wise-woman watched her patient, eyes piercing despite the years that bent her shoulders and wrinkled her paws. "This is the choice you must make for yourself and your husband; is the chance of having a family worth enough to you to risk that loss?"

Soemmer choked on the tears that burned at the back of her throat, migrating to her dark eyes too quickly to be stopped. Gathering her bag, the leopard pushed herself to her feet with a faint groan, feeling several small pops ricochet through her old bones. Leaving the younger female to think about what she'd said, the midwife closed the door behind her and signaled to one of the loafing guards.

"Keep a discrete eye on Lady Soemmer until the hunters return. She's distraught, and shouldn't be put under any more stress than necessary." Her instructions were quick and soft. The soldier nodded smartly and gave her a casual salute, waving a couple of his friends over. The cats here were utterly devoted to their leader. That seemed to extend easily to Tygra's mate. Pardra shuffled away, pursing her lips against the dull ache crouching heavily in her chest. Soemmer would be well cared for. She just needed time to calm down.


	7. Look Away

Hunger eventually drove the cheetah to abandon the sleeping pad. She was startled to find that it was already early afternoon as she stepped into the sunlight. Soemmer's mind felt heavy and bogged down, her senses dulled by fear and guilt. The fresh air did little to lift her spirits, though she felt her body responding to the sunlight and wind, aching limbs throwing off the stiffness of laying still for too long. Numbly, she ran a hand through her hair, tangling one silken lock about her fingers in an age-old habit her father had once said she inherited from her mother. That thought brought her mind around to the cub growing in her belly and she prayed for the first time in her life that in this aspect at least, she was nothing like her mother.

Forgetful and unaware of the whys and wherefores of her wandering, Soemmer drifted through the village, looking here and there for something that she couldn't quite remember. At length, she returned to her hut, and was surprised to find a bundle sitting in front of the door. A bundle wrapped in a green scarf she'd never seen before. Automatically, she picked it up and took it inside. It contained a simple dinner of bread, cheese, and salted meats. The cheetah had no idea where it had come from, but she was grateful for it nonetheless, and ate voraciously. Soemmer focused on taking care of herself to the best of her ability. She ate, washed, and slept. It was nearly a full day afterword that her mind had sufficiently recovered to attempt contacting another cat.

"Excuse me?" Even to her own ears, the cheetah's voice was weak. She disliked the thought that barely two days of this new knowledge had lowered her to such a level. Tygra deserved better. Biting her lip, Soemmer straightened and tried to stoke her own confidence. "Excuse me." The second try came out more authoritatively than the first, and she smiled faintly. The soldier glanced at her, then turned to face her, coming to attention with a sharp click of healthy claws.

"Yes, Lady Soemmer?" His formal tone gave the impression that someone had been reminding the lads that she wasn't just a Felinis Ford cat anymore. She was wife to the Prince of Thundera. Something in her core stiffened a little, hardened slightly, rebelled against the deference and respect.

"I'm not a Lady," she informed him tartly, taking in his tawny fur and ruthlessly short mane. "It's just Soemmer, if you please. I'm not different now that I was a week ago." The lion seemed taken aback by her manner, and his salute sagged a little. Soemmer smiled.

"Uh, yes la- uh, Soemmer. Sure." Now that his ritualistic formality and been interrupted, the soldier didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He shifted uncomfortably, pointedly avoiding looking at her.

"Where's Pardra? I want to talk to her." Soemmer made sure her tone was as firm as could still be friendly. Leonine features twisted with relief, and he pointed toward the jungle border.

"She was gathering herbs last I heard. Said she'd be out 'til noontime at least." He looked a little abashed and shifted again, tail swinging in an embarrassed arc behind his legs. "We're supposed to be keeping an extra close eye on the jungle today, to make sure nothing happens."

"And how much longer until the hunters return?"

"A day or two, I think. Depends on what kind of haul they bring back."

A day or two? Soemmer was stunned. She'd thought she had another week left. Had she been overwhelmed by her own fears for so long? Shaking off the feeling of uselessness that accompanied the thought, the cheetah forged ahead with every ounce of power in her petite body.

"Very well. Thank you." Turning smartly, she returned to her hut. The unforgiving routine of cleaning and laundry absorbed her fully, which was exactly what she meant it to do. The jobs needed done, and her self-centered moping couldn't be allowed to continue. She had a cub to look after, and a husband to care for. How Tygra would react to their new status as parents-to-be, she didn't know, but there was no time to worry about that. If he was going to be home in two days or less, then the tiger would make his reactions clear enough as soon as he learned what was coming. Gritting her teeth against the wave of fear that came with the idea that he might not be happy, Soemmer scrubbed at her dirty trousers with such merciless single-mindedness that the other females edged away from her splashing. It wasn't until she sat down with Serva for a light lunch that she started to get worried.

"Have you seen Pardra?" she asked anxiously, fingering a brittle cracker. Serva glanced at her, enormous ears tilting backward over her narrow features.

"Pardra? No, I ain't seen the old bat. Why?"

"She was supposed to be back around noontime, and I wanted to talk to her." Soemmer scanned the river nervously, noting every piece of drifting debris as though it might be a clue to where the wise-woman was.

"Talk to her?" Serva's ears came forward suddenly as though pulled by invisible strings toward the potential gossip. "What for? You havin' second thoughts about that big hunk'a tiger y' married? Ya know, if y' got cold feet, I could-"

"No." The cheetah surprised herself and the eager serval with her quick, sharp reply.

"I was jus' teasing. Keep your hair on, Soemmer, yeesh." Serva was still smiling, and Soemmer tried to relax. "I ain't seen her today. Knowin' her, the old coot probably wandered off after some poor injured something." And with that, Serva seemed to lose interest in the topic, bowing her head to focus more intently on her food. Soemmer wasn't fooled. She knew her friend was listening for the reaction she wanted her hear. Running her sandpaper tongue over dry lips, the cheetah suppressed the building anxiety and concentrated on lunch. As soon as was polite, however, she excused herself. Serva watched her go with narrow eyes and a knowing smile. Soemmer suspected that by evening, the entire village would know that she'd been looking for Pardra, and that she was having an affair or some such nonsense. At the moment, however, she didn't really care.

The jungle seemed to welcome her with shady, humid arms open wide. The noise, as muffled as it was by the heat of the day and the thick undergrowth, was intense, crawling under her skin and sinking into her belly. Insides twisted with tension and no longer feeling as determined as she had that morning, Soemmer crept into the jungle, following a faint trail. The scent was faded, but it had the unmistakable medicinal tang she knew had to have come from Pardra. Had Serva been right, then? Unwilling to think too much about how deep the midwife might have strayed, the cheetah lowered herself cautiously into the shadow and padded almost silently through the trees.

Several minutes of too-quiet jungle noises followed, to be interrupted with a sharp snap. The sound wasn't loud, but to Soemmer's straining ears, it sounded like the crack of a whip. Fur bristling and heart pounding, the petite female whirled and sprang backward in one frightened motion. A jaguar with legs too long for his sturdy body was standing a couple yards back, lifting his hands in nervous surrender, tail brushing the ground as it twitched behind him.

"Gazer!" The name escaped her in a hiss, like a pressure release valve flicking open. "What are you doing here?" The soldier looked away, clasping his hands like a child caught snitching cookies.

"I followed you," he answered truthfully. "It's not safe to be in the jungle alone, Lady Soemmer."

"It's just Soemmer," she snapped, too grateful for his presence to put any real force behind the words. "And if you're going to insist on following me, come here and make yourself useful. I need to find Pardra." If anything, the concern in Gazer's face was even more pronounced now than when he'd originally called for the old leopard.

"Is there something wrong?"

"I hope not." Soemmer tried to keep the tremor out of her voice as she turned her attention back to the trail, her heart pounding relentlessly in her throat. Together they crept forward, slightly less silent now that they were side-by-side, but more confident in their progress. It was Gazer that smelled the blood, but Soemmer saw the sorry, twisted heap of fur before she could process what it was. She didn't look away fast enough.


	8. Reunion

She didn't look away fast enough. Soemmer had herself convinced that if she'd just turned her head a little quicker, then maybe the image of that pathetic, crumpled old body might not be permanently seared into her brain. At least, that was what it felt like. Even worse than finding her was the intense feeling of fear and the self-loathing that came with it. There was now not even one midwife in Felinis Ford. And she was pregnant.

This selfishness burned at the back of her throat like vinegar wine and while Soemmer could fight it when there were others around that were looking at her with pity in their eyes, now that she was alone it was a whole different story. The cheetah remembered the look of grief on the Chief's face when he'd come to see Pardra carried back home, and hugged her knees a little tighter. Laying curled up like this was actually almost painful. She hadn't noticed before how the space in her belly was being taken up.

_It's just my body preparing for the cub_, she told herself firmly, but fear lanced through her anyway. Tears attacked her eyes from behind. The door was shut tight. The windows were barred. Soemmer sobbed quietly, venting her fear and frustration into the salty dampness of her own fur, pulling the blanket up over her head. She wished her father were still alive. She wished Tygra were here to hold her. She wished Pardra hadn't left her alone. She wished lots of things, and knew that there was nothing she could do about any of it. The distraught female didn't bother to stoke the fire or light the lanterns when it got dark, but lay in the deep shadow of the hut and cried irregular, ragged tears to go with the rasping, irregular sobs.

She didn't hear the door open. She _did_ hear it shut. The familiar heavy tread and musky scent brought on a fresh wave of grief and fear. Burying her face in the pillow, the little female prayed he couldn't hear her crying, even though she knew there was no way he'd miss it. She could hear him moving in the main room and regretted not having anything ready for her husband.

"Soemmer?" She could hear the concern in his voice and choked on a pitiful sob. Soemmer had never been able to honestly say that she hated herself before. "Soemmer?" He was in the bedroom now, and she felt the pallet sink slightly under his weight as he sat beside her. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

And then she felt his arms around her and she pulled the blanket down to look at him. She must have been a mess, but she didn't care. She'd forgotten how wonderful it felt for him to hold her, though the tiger seemed to be reluctant and worried.

"Tygra?"

"What is it?" There was a ragged edge to his voice, as though the worry were tearing chunks out of it. Soemmer couldn't help herself. She threw herself at him and buried her face in his chest. She hadn't realized until that moment that part of her genuinely believed it was just a dream, that he wasn't really back, that her mind was playing tricks on her. "Please tell me what's wrong," he murmured, fear patching up the holes in his tone left by the worry.

A hundred questions and a million answers erupted simultaneously in the cheetah's overtired brain. She wanted to tell him everything, about how tired and worried she'd been, about getting sick, about Pardra's visit and the news about their cub, about Gazer and Serva and the pot she'd loaned out, about finding Pardra in the jungle and there not being a midwife anymore. About her fear, that she might die, or worse, that the cub might die. With all these things crowding the front of her mind, it was a marvel that Soemmer got anything out her mouth at all. A single word slipped past her quivering lips, nearly lost in Tygra's strong, warm chest. He smelled like earth and grass.

"Pregnant."

"What?" His word was caught between nervous and stunned. Soemmer lifted her head, suddenly knowing what to say to him.

"Tygra, I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant?"

"And scared."


	9. Conclusion

It was evening when Tygra and his crew finally saw the lights of Felinis Ford again. There was a collective sigh of relief from his men, and the tiger grinned. They were all anxious to get back to the comforts of home and see loved ones again. For as trained as they were, the soldiers were really just a bunch of big babies in their own way.

_And I'm just as bad as any of them,_ he reminded himself ruefully. The prince's mind was turning inexorably toward a certain cheetah that could fit perfectly into the empty space under his arm. He was sure she was humming and dancing her way around their little kitchen, making the hut smell like home and preparing something wonderful to eat. Tygra's mouth watered at the thought. The heavy carcass he'd been carrying felt suddenly light on his shoulders as he bounded across the ford to the lit entrance to the butcher's little shop. Behind the butcher, the tannery sat ready to receive the hides and make them suitable for clothing. The men watched with amused smiles as their commander waited impatiently for the rest of them to catch up.

Tygra shifted his weight from one foot to the other while he watched the men drop off their kills and cataloged them dutifully. If his men hadn't been eager to return to their own beds, they might have stuck around and chuckled at him. Newlyweds. Many eyes rolled to the starry heavens as they retreated to their bunks. At last, the count was in, the list was finished, and Tygra could hand it over to the butcher with a satisfied grin and "good night." Despite the weariness in his legs, he couldn't run fast enough to get to his own little hut. When it came into view around the bend, the tiger prince slowed, unnerved by the dark windows and closed door. Soemmer should have had the hut all open and bright, letting in the evening breeze. She hated stagnant air like he hated getting his ears wet.

Worry mounted quickly in his broad chest as he pushed the door open and found no fire in the stove, no light in the lanterns, and no Soemmer in the kitchen. Things were wrong.

"Soemmer?" He could smell her, but he could also smell the tangy, salty aftermath of tears. She was crying? The tiger swung his head from one side to the other, trying to determine where she was, and caught the faint scent of an old puddle of sick that had been cleaned up. Worry was morphing into fear now. "Soemmer?" He moved into the bedroom, where her scent was the strongest. At first, he didn't see her, but then the heap of fabric on the sleeping pad quivered, and he knew where she was. He sat gently beside her, trying to see her face. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Hesitantly, almost afraid of what he might find under the blanket, Tygra put his arms around the quivering bundle. She felt alright. At least, she hadn't lost an inordinate amount of weight and she still had both arms. That was a relief.

"Tygra?"

The sound of her voice threatened to break his heart. It was hoarse from crying, and so weak, so small as to be hardly recognizable. This sad little voice was nothing like the strong, musical soprano he was used to. There were a hundred little comforting things he could have said, assuring her that it was alright, that he was with her, that he wouldn't let anything hurt her, but worry overruled his desire to comfort and what slipped out was actually- "What is it?" A distant, abstract part of his mind thought that to someone who didn't know him, that probably could have sounded cold. Heartless. Uncaring.

Suddenly, Soemmer hit his chest, the scent of tears renewed as it soaked into his fur. Her shoulders shook under his arms as he folded the little female into his embrace, wishing he knew what would make all this better again. Tygra stroked her hair and rubbed her back and held her tightly, scanning the room for any hint of what was distressing his wife.

"Please tell me what's wrong," he begged quietly. If there was something he could have broken, crushed, or killed to make things better, then he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he didn't know what was wrong. He didn't even know if it was something he could fix. The tiger felt powerless. He, a commander, a general, a _prince_, felt powerless in the face of this unknown, unnamed thing that had made his strong little wife so upset. Then she said a word. One word. It was almost lost amid the tears, but Tygra's keen ears twitched, so attuned to Soemmer's voice that he probably would have picked up her whisper in a crowded marketplace. Just one word, and it sounded an awful lot like "pregnant." The word, once processed, hit him like a physical blow.

"What?" He had to be sure. He couldn't trust his own ears, not with something like this. Not with something so important, so life-changing. Soemmer lifted her head, and he could see that her eyes were rimmed with the white of distress and the red of tears.

"I'm pregnant." Her voice was still hoarse, but more steady now, as though she'd made a decision. Tygra felt the word again, like a punch to the gut, his head reeling as he tried to absorb the concept.

"You're pregnant?" While part of him was so stunned that all he could do was sit there, another part of his fertile mind was racing backward over their time together, trying to count out the days, weeks, months they'd been married. Had it really been months? Could it really have been that long? He felt her nod, and as though from a great distance, he heard her speak.

"And scared." Scared? Why was she scared? This was a good thing, wasn't it? Tygra was even more confused now, though his worry was beginning to fade. Pregnant. Wow.

"You're pregnant," he repeated, rolling the words around his mouth as the concept gradually percolated between his striped ears. "We're going to have a baby." Tygra looked down at his wife, a smile spreading across his incredulous features. "Soemmer, we're going to have a baby!" He noticed that her eyes, huge in her narrow face, didn't look happy.

"I'm _scared_, Tygra. Your mother died in childbirth. So did mine. We're out in the middle of nowhere!" The rising note of panic in her words disturbed him more than he could let her know. The prince cradled her against his chest, pulling the cheetah into his lap for good measure as he smoothed her ruffled fur.

"We'll have Pardra. She's a good midwife. You don't have anything to worry about, Soemmer." There was something in the way she shook her head that filled his stomach with dread. Her words dropped like ice-cubes through the dark space between them.

"Pardra's dead." Silence. Tygra's heart seemed to lose a couple beats as it sped up, thundering to fill the quiet.

"Dead?" He knew before she nodded that it was true. It would explain the lack of perimeter guards and the silence of the village, things he'd decided to ignore in favor of getting home faster. Now he wished he'd done his duty as a commander before rushing to Soemmer's side. At the same time, he was glad he'd come straight here to help his wife through these difficult emotions. Pushing the conflicting thoughts aside, Tygra shook his head slightly. Without a midwife... he didn't like the odds at all. There were at least three other females in the village that were expecting. They _needed_ a midwife.

"Don't worry," he murmured soothingly, stroking her hair with a confidence he didn't feel. "Nothing will go wrong."

"But what if it does?"

"I won't let it." More false confidence. Almost desperation. The idea of losing Soemmer and being left with a baby to raise on his own was enough to set the big tiger to trembling. He marshaled his wits and forced his limbs to stay calm and steady. Not an easy feat after walking twelve miles with a 200-pound dead weight on his shoulders. He felt her shudder slightly, and it took a moment for him to realize that she'd snorted at him. The sound made him smile. Soemmer hadn't completely gone to pieces, then. Strong girl. He was proud of her.

"A prince and a general you may be, Tygra, but a midwife, you're not. How do you think you'd help me if something went wrong?"

"You'll be fine," he assured her again, but she must have seen the uncertainty in his expression, because the cheetah started to cry again. It wasn't the wracking, panicked sobs that had shaken her earlier. A few quiet tears trickled into her already salty fur, and though she trembled, she didn't make any noise. If anything this distressed Tygra more than anything else. Seeing Soemmer break down like this seemed to unsettle something he'd counted on since he'd married her. Had it really been seven months already? Eventually, through much coaxing and whispering of soothing words, he convinced her to drink some tea (that he had to make one-handed so he didn't let go of her).

At last, the cheetah was so exhausted that she dropped off to sleep without ever leaving his arms. The tiger sat cross-legged on the pallet, staring through the open doorway to the flickering light from the fire in the main room. The shadows cast by the low table and the tea kettle were monstrous and grotesque. His imagination stretched and warped them until he was staring into the leering faces of his brother and sister-in-law. He shuddered, tearing his eyes away from the caricatures his mind had made for him. Going back to Thundera was the last thing he wanted to do right now... but it looked like it was his only choice. His eyes fell on Soemmer and the tiger's heart lurched. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't even _think_ about not having her. He needed her. The resolve hardened in his gut and Tygra set his jaw.

As soon as he could manage it, they would leave for Thundera.

Thank you all for reading! :) Soemmer belongs to Prairie24, please don't use without her permission.  
Thank you for the reviews, they are very much appreciated.  
This whole shebang has been based off of Prairie24's fanfic _Heir Presumptive_. Please read and review her story so she'll write more! :D


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